Worship — Alone?

I wake up early this morning (6:00 AM is early for a Sunday, at least for me!) worried about everything that has to get done in the next couple of weeks.

Remember: 10 days. Worship, not worry!

Oh yeah. I grab my Bible, iPod, and journal. I settle in on the couch.

Now what?

Instantly, I’m ashamed for asking. How can I not know what to do next? I was raised in a Christian home, attended church weekly, spent 16 years attending Christian schools, and have taught for two decades in Christian schools.

Yet I am wondering: Exactly what is worship?

I can identify worship when I see it happening elsewhere: The praise and worship service. Worship through prayer. The entire congregation standing in worship.

But what is worship right now? Here in my quiet living room? As I sit alone?

Oh, I could go all English-teachery and pull out Webster:

wor ship. noun. 1. reverent honor and homage paid to god or a sacred personage. 2. formal or ceremonious rendering of such honor and homage. 3. adoring reverence or regard; verb. 1. to render religious reverence and homage, as to a deity. 2. to attend services of divine worship. 3. to feel an adoring reverence or regard.

Well, I’m not feeling much other than discomfort and foolishness right about now. I’m starting to realize how much of a “social worshipper” I am. I love being part of a worshipping group — especially at a women’s retreat — our individual voices blended (and mine well masked!) in song.

Synergy and collaboration are my two favorite words; I love doing things together. And, I realize, I truly hate doing things alone. Sure, I could start singing a favorite praise song, but I loathe my voice. It’s weak. Off-key. Powerless. It doesn’t feel like real worship unless there’s serious volume, harmony, talent.

I could raise one or both hands, but how weird is that? It’s taken me years to shake off my your-hands-belong-at-your-sides conservative upbringing. For the longest time, I’d allow one brave hand to tentatively raise while the other remained obediently plastered to my side. Now, I love throwing myself into worship with both hands raised fully in praise. But it only feels “right” in a group with others who are doing the same. I’m thrilled that Tapesty is doing a concert in July; Annemarie and I will be there with bells on! But right here, right now, raise one or both hands? Alone?

(I am so not even touching the whole “dancing before the Lord” concept!)

But for all my hesitations and misgivings, I know that I, of all people, need physical acts of worship. I may be twenty years past the death-trap of Ed (eating disorder), but I can still snap instantly into old habits of disconnecting from my body and retreating into my head, especially when I’m feeling weak or worried.

I look up the root words of “worship.” (Yes, I know I’m stalling. Anything to stay in the comfort zone of my brain!) Interestingly enough, it’s made up of the words “worth” and “-ship.” The “-ship” part simply means “state of being.” And a search for “Worth” brings up merit. Excellence. Importance. Value.

Worship comes down to what I value. Oh, I’ll tell you with my words that I don’t value worrying! But the truth shows up in my actions. I wake up early because I’m so worried about everything I’ve got to get done. And now I’ve spent the last thirty minutes worrying about worship!

From a simple time and energy investment perspective, worry is the most valuable thing in my life. My “almighty” To Do list is my “god,” and worry is my method of worshipping it. Now that is seriously weird. Off-key singing, raised hands, and even dancing pale in comparison.

I’m appalled. I can’t say I’m shocked; I’ve only re-discovered how much of an achievement-focused Choleric zealot I really am a few hundred times in my life. But I’ve not seen it in this light. Doing is my “god,” and worry is my worship. This is an “ah-HA!” of the most disturbing kind.

Yesterday, I thought “worship, not worry!” was a cute little catch phrase. Now I realize it’s a baby step in a journey. Yes, I’m appalled. But I’m also in awe. Awed that the One of ultimate value follows me wherever my rationalizing mind wanders. Awed that He values me — even when I’m busy worshipping another “god” — enough to pursue and woo me.
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I want my “worth-ship” to come down not to what I value but Who I value.

I still don’t know the “right” answer to my question: Exactly what is worship?

But I feel a song coming on. And I think that rather than worrying about how I’ll sound, I’ll try singing.

(I’d suggest you plug your ears, but you’re not here–whew! And anyways, this isn’t about you. It isn’t even about me.)